“Since only the downtrodden—the Anders—can be virtuous, because they were oppressed, only they are allowed to rule. They teach that Haken oppression continues to this day. Even a look from a Haken can be interpreted as a projection of hate. Conversely, Hakens cannot be downtrodden, and thus virtuous, since by nature they are corrupt.
“It’s now against the law for Hakens to learn to read, out of fear they would again seize rule and go on to brutalize and butcher the Ander people, as surely as night always extinguishes day, to put their words to it. Hakens are required to attend classes called penance assembly to keep them in line. It’s all systematized and codified the way Anders now rule Hakens.
“Keep in mind, Richard, the history I told you is what was taught me by the wizards. What the Anders teach is quite different. They teach that they were an oppressed people who by their own higher nature have, after centuries of domination, once again exerted their cultural superiority. For all I know, their version could even be true.”
Richard was standing, hands on hips, staring incredulously. “And the council in Aydindril allowed this? They allowed the Anders to enslave the Haken people in such a fashion?”
“The Hakens meekly submit. They believe as they were taught by Ander teachers—that this is a better way.”
“But how could the Central Council allow such a perversion of justice?”
“You forget, Richard, the Midlands was an alliance of sovereign lands. The Confessors helped see to it that rule in the Midlands was, to a certain extent, fair. We did not tolerate murder of political opponents, things like that, but if a people like the Hakens willingly went along with the way their land worked, the council had little say. Brutal rule was opposed. Bizarre rule was not.”
Richard threw up his hands. “But the Hakens only go along because they are taught this nonsense. They don’t know how ridiculous it is. It is the equivalent of the abuse of an ignorant people.”
“Abuse maybe to you, Richard. They see it differently. They see it as a way to peace in their land. That is their right.”
“The fact they were deliberately taught in a way to make them ignorant is proof of the abuse.”
She tilted her head toward him. “Aren’t you the one who just told me the Hakens had no right to destroy the Ander culture? Now you argue the council should have done no less?”
Richard’s face reflected frustration. “You were talking about the council of the Midlands?”
Kahlan took another drink and then handed him the waterskin.
“This all happened centuries ago. No one land was strong enough to enforce law on the rest of the Midlands. Together, through the council, we simply try to work together. The Confessors interceded when rulers stepped outside the bounds.
“Had we tried to dictate how each sovereign land was to be ruled, the alliance would have fallen apart and war would have replaced reason and cooperation. I’m not saying it was perfect, Richard, but it allowed most people to live in peace.”
He sighed. “I suppose. I’m no expert on governing. I guess it served the people of the Midlands for thousands of years.”
Kahlan picked at her tava bread. “Things like what happened in Anderith are one reason I came to understand and believe in what you are trying to accomplish, Richard. Until you came along, with D’Hara behind your word, no one land was strong enough to set down just law for all peoples. Against a foe like Jagang, the alliance of the Midlands had no chance.”
Richard couldn’t really imagine how it must have been for her, as Mother Confessor, to see what she had worked for her entire life fall apart. Richard’s father, Darken Rahl, had set in motion events that had altered the world. Kahlan, at least, had seen the opportunity in the chaos.
Richard rubbed his brow as he considered what to do next.
“All right, so I now understand a bit about the history of Anderith. I’m sure that if I knew the history of D’Hara I’d find that far more sordid, and yet they now follow me and struggle for justice—strange as I realize that sounds. The spirits know some people have hung the crimes of D’Hara past around my Rahl neck.
“From what you’ve told me of Anderith history, they sound like a people who would never submit to the rule of the Imperial Order. Do you think we can get Anderith to join with us?”
Kahlan took a deep breath as she considered it. He had been hoping she would say yes without having to think about it.
“They are ruled by a sovereign, who is also their religious leader. That element of their society hearkens back to the religious beliefs of the Anders. The Directors of the Office of Cultural Amity hold sway over who will be named Sovereign for life. The Directors are supposed to be a moral check on the man appointed Sovereign—in a way like the First Wizard selecting the right person to be Seeker.
“The Anderith people believe that once anointed by the Directors, the man named Sovereign transcends mere matters of the flesh, and is in touch with the Creator Himself. Some fervently believe he speaks in this world for the Creator. Some view him with the reverence they would reserve for the Creator Himself.”
“So, he’s the one who will need to be convinced to join us?”
“In part, but the Sovereign doesn’t really rule in the day-to-day sense. He’s more a figurehead, loved by the people for what he represents. Nowadays Anders make up less than maybe fifteen or twenty percent of the population, but the Hakens feel much the same about their Sovereign.
“He has the power to order the rest of the government to a course, but more often he simply approves the one they select. For the large part, the ruling of Anderith is done by the Minister of Culture. The Minister sets the agenda for the land. That would be a man named Bertrand Chanboor.
“The Minister of Culture’s office just outside Fairfield is the governing body that ultimately would make the decision. The representatives I met with in Aydindril will report our words to Minister Chanboor.
“No matter the dim history, the present-day fact is that Anderith is a power to be reckoned with. If the ancient Anders were a primitive people, they are no longer so. They are wealthy merchants who control vast trade and wealth. They govern with equal skill; they have a secure grip on their power and their land.”
Richard scanned the empty grasslands. Ever since the chime had come to kill Du Chaillu, and he had felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end, he kept checking for the feeling, hoping that, if it came again, he w
ould be aware of the sensation sooner and to be able to warn everyone in time.
He glanced over to see Cara feeding Du Chaillu porridge. She needed to be back with her people, not carrying her unborn child all over the countryside.
“The Anders are not fat, soft, lazy merchants, either,” Kahlan went on. “Except for the army, where a semblance of equality exists, only Anders are allowed to carry weapons, and they tend to be good with them. The Anders, despite what you may think of them, are no fools and neither are they to be easily won over.”
Richard again gazed out over the grasslands as he made plans in his head.
“In Ebinissia, in Renwold,” he said, “Jagang has shown what he does to people who refuse to join him. If Anderith doesn’t join us, they will again fall to a foreign invasion. This time, though, the invaders will have no sense of justice.”
35
Richard, considering everything Kahlan had told him, and what the chimes had, in their own brutal way, told him, stood staring off toward Aydindril. Learning some of the history of Anderith only made him feel more sure of his decision.
“I knew we had to be going the wrong way,” he said at last.
Kahlan frowned out over the empty plains to the northeast, where he was looking. “What do you mean?”
“Zedd used to tell me that if the road is easy, you’re likely going the wrong way.”
“Richard, we’ve been all through that,” Kahlan said with weary insistence as she pushed her hair back off her face. “We need to get to Aydindril. Now, more than ever, you must see that.”
“The Mother Confessor is right,” Cara said, returning from Du Chaillu, now that the woman was resting. Richard noticed that Cara’s knuckles were white around her Agiel. “These chimes must be banished. We must help Zedd set magic right again.”
“Oh, really? You don’t know, Cara, how pleased I am to hear that you are now such a devotee of magic.” Richard looked around, checking for their gear. “I have to go to Anderith.”